when you’re walking in the front door in daylight
and the barmaid’s putting up the sign outside
and you have to check your watch and ask for confirmation
that the bar is in fact open and she congratulates you
on being the first customer of the day
when you sit at the empty bar and only the owner of the place
is sharing the space with you
when you feel like an alcoholic
and the fact that you’re drunk isn’t helping
when you feel obligated to order a coffee and a glass of water
just to make yourself feel somewhat under control
somewhat half-way pedestrian
when that time kicks in your ribs
with the cold and pointed twang of social conformity
maybe it’s time to admit
you have a problem
